96

Summer
I lose it then, tears escaping my eyes. Everything that doesn’t work in my life, that I’ve crammed into a pretty box and tried to wrap a bow around, comes bubbling to the surface.
He kisses my neck, rubbing circles on my back.
“Why do you care?” My words are muffled against his neck. Maybe what I’m really asking ishow does he care? As a friend? As my self-appointed guardian? Is this the kinky dominant talkingjust part of a role he enjoys? Or is there something real between us?
He pries me off him and cradles my cheek. His gold-flecked green eyes rove over my face. His expression is soft and serious, and he opens his mouth to say something, but then seems to change his mind, closing it again.
“I just do,” he says. “Now stop deflecting and tell me why you can’t quit business school.”
Said the king of deflection himself. My stomach bunches up in knots. “Can we please not talk about this?”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m going to lose my breakfast.”
He strokes my cheek, and the look of sympathy brings fresh tears to my eyes. “I think you got railroaded into this by your mom, and you don’t believe you can convince her this isn’t the best choice.”
“Right.” The syllable comes out with a relieved breath. He understands. Once more, I’m surprised by how much he truly sees about me.
“But, cara, you’re twenty-one years old. Your mother shouldn’t be making major life decisions for you anymore.”
The stone in my stomach gets heavier. “My parents still support me. Which means either I need to find a great job and break those ties, or I have to do what they say. And it’s pretty hard to find a lucrative job without a degree and skills that don’t extend beyond a ballet studio. They pay my rent and credit card bill. It’s like I’ve had my chance to be frivolous, but the party’s over, and I have to grow up and work for corporate America.”
“Do you think they want you to be miserable?”
“I’m not sure that matters.”
“I disagree.”
It’s strange and comforting to have a conversation about this with someone who actually knows my parents as well as Carlo does. Maggie and I have hashed this out a dozen times, but Maggie can’t disagree with my opinions of how my family works. Hearing Carlo weigh in helps.
“I’d like you to talk to them this Sunday. I’ll be there with you, if you want, to lend support.”
“Carlo… I can’t.”
He regards me without expression. Like this is part of his bossman act. I’m supposed to do what he says because he’s in charge of my life now. Well, that’s all fine when it comes to a little spanky play, but this is my actual life we’re talking about. It’s not the same. He’s overstepping.
“I’m serious,” he says.
He doesn’t threaten a consequence for disobedience, perhaps because this is real-life, not fetish. Even so, he shows no sign of backing down, demanding I yield to his indomitable will. It almost outweighs my anxiety over talking to my parents.
Almost.
“I’ll try.”
“What does Yoda say about try?”
I roll my eyes. It sometimes surprises her how much American pop-culture he’s absorbed in his five years here. But I suppose they watch Star Wars in Italy, too.
“Sunday dinner. Alone or with me there, it needs to be done.”
“Carlo.” I spread my fingers, “I can’t just go in there and say I want to quit. I’ll need a plan to present them or something.”
“Like what?”
“I should tell them what I’ll do instead, though, and stripping at The Candy Store probably won’t fit the bill.”
“How about teaching?”
My lip curls. It’s what everyone suggests, but I don’t think I know enough to teach dance yet. At Tisch, I specialized in performance, not pedagogy. “I don’t think I could.”
“Because you’re not interested or because you’re afraid?”
Very perceptive. Who the hell is this guy anyway, and how did he manage to get in my head? I don’t particularly want to answer that question, which he also seems to guess because he puts a finger under my chin to lift it.
“The truth.”
“I-I just wouldn’t know what I was doing.”
“Right-because fifteen years of dance training hasn’t prepared you well enough.”
I let out a laugh. “Seventeen. Well…”
“How about if you just tell your parents you’re going to look into your options for teaching, and then you can face your fears after you’ve cleared your plate of this business school nonsense.”
I laugh again at the word nonsense-the exact opposite of what my mom considers it. “Okay,” I say finally.
Carlo smiles. “Good girl.” He helps me off his lap. “And now your eggs are cold. Remind me next time not to challenge you before you’ve eaten.”
I laugh again, warmth infusing my chest. The guy does care. I can’t deny that. And that may be what terrifies me the most. Because I could get used to this. To letting Carlo run my life. Play master to my slave. Become everything to me. And then what happens when I find out it’s just another play for him?
Carlo
I chew the end of a cigar and look at my cards. We’re at Swank, the nightclub owned by Joey LaTorre. It was half-destroyed by a bomb intended to kill all of us a few months ago. Bobby, one of the capos who owns a construction company used by the outfit to launder money, oversaw the rebuilding, and had his crews working round the clock, so our evening headquarters was restored in a matter of weeks.
We resumed our weekly game immediatelya fuck you to the Matrangas for trying to take us down. And Sammy. The fucker who betrayed us. Wish I’d been the one to end him. I would’ve made it a long and drawn-out affair. I’ve got a mean streak I don’t mind flexing for Family business.
I don’t love cigars, but it’s part of the male bonding. Al loves them, and this is the way we commune with him. Joey’s here, a changed man since the explosion. Or maybe it’s since Sophie. But things shifted between him and Al, too. He’s taken a step back from the day-to-day operations of the outfit. He sticks to numbers and legit business enterprises. I’ve taken a step forward with the most dangerous activities.
The atmosphere of this game was night and day different from my high-stakes game. That one is business: this is pleasure. Loud voices fill the room, men talking with their hands, boasting and bragging, razzing each other in a good-natured way.
“So, Carlo, you got a new girlfriend?”
Fucking Vince.
Some heads swivel in my direction.
“No.”
“No? Really? I thought you had a girl there when I stopped by Saturday.” The guy glances at the don, and I want to kill him.
I work hard not to visibly stiffen. Fuck. I hope Vince didn’t figure out I had Summer over at my place.
I want to say, “Just a piece of ass,” to shut him up, but if Vince thinks it was Summer, no way I’m going to disrespect her that way.
Al eyes me, probably picking up my discomfort. The guy’s good at reading people. “Do you have a new girlfriend?”
“No.” I need to tread carefully here. If-when-it comes out I’m dating Summer, I don’t want to be guilty of any lies. “I’ve been seeing someone. Not officially a girlfriend yet, but I’m working on it.”
Al’s face breaks into a broad smile, and guilt makes me queasy. “So she’s girlfriend material? It’s about time you made a real connection. You’d be more respectable if you had a woman.”
Yeah, especially if that woman is the don’s daughter. Unless the don objects, in which case I’m a dead man, as the saying goes. Funny how my original attraction to Summer was the very fact that she was the mafia princess, and now it’s what gives me nightmares. It’s not about marrying into the family anymore. That was a foolish ambition of my early years. No, now it’s just about Summer. The woman who’s captured everything for me.
The culture of La Famiglia is old-fashioned. The woman you marry isn’t the one you fuck like a whore. You keep the depravity out of the family house. I suppose that idea was bred into me, and yet discovering that the pure, wholesome angel I set my sights on marrying is also willing to submit to my depravity sent my worlds colliding. But in a good way. A perfect way. I don’t really objectify women the way the guys around me do. To me, Summer’s everything-all I can see, all I will ever need.
I want to claim her for real-not in my bed, but as my wife, as my forever-girl. But it’s far too soon. She’s still mixed up and on the rebound. And I haven’t figured out how to play things with her parents. It’s been less than two weeks since I found her stripping at The Candy Store. This situation requires patience, which has never been my strong suit.
I eye Joey, Al’s younger brother. He serves as a resource-an investment broker, an advisor. He might have some advice about how to handle this situation with Summer.
I hang around late, even though the thought of Summer at home in my bed makes me crazy. The guys all get up around the same time to go, and I walk out to the club with them, hanging back without being obvious about it.
“Hey I gotta show you something if you can stay for a sec.” Joey lifts his chin at me.
“Sure thing.” Lucky break. I wander back to his office and wait. When he comes, I ask, “What’s up?”
“Nothing, I got the feeling you wanted to talk to me.”
Smart fuck. And I thought I was perfectly subtle. I’ll have to watch myself in the future.
“You were hanging back at the end there. What’s up?”
Well, now I have no choice but to come out with it now. “Summer’s the girl I’m dating.”
Joey lifts a brow. “My niece, Summer.” He doesn’t say it like a question. More like I’m in deep shit.
“Yeah.” Damn, my heart is hammering. Jesus.
I lost my entire family four years ago.
The LaTorres are all I have now. I didn’t realize how afraid I am of losing my place here. But who am I kidding? I might lose more than my place if I truly offend the don. I could lose everythingincluding my life.
Joey folds his arms across his chest. “Do you have a death wish?”
A flare of irritation runs through me. I may respect the don, but I’m also worthy of his daughter. Besides, there’s no backing out now. I jumped in with both feet. To reverse directions now would hurt Summer. And beyond that, I have no intention of giving her up. My lips flatten. “Why?” I ask, even though I know exactly why.
Joey blows out his breath. “He’ll kill you.”
My throat tightens. My hands turn cold. “Literally?”
Joey tips his head to the side, considering. “Nah. At least, I don’t think so. Not unless you hurt her. But Christ, why’d you have to pick her?”
The misery on my face must’ve been apparent because Joey’s brows rise, and he walks forward and drops a hand on my shoulder. “Wow, you got it bad, don’t you?”
The words open up some crack that’s always been inside me. Or at least since the day I landed in the LaTorre house four years ago. Emotion pours out, gushes over me, fogs my brain. For some stupid reason, the memory of standing outside my great-uncle’s house four years ago, stripped of my family, at a loss for how to move forward flashes through my mind, making the scar on my ear burn.
I reach up and rubbed it. “Yeah,” I manage to answer.
Joey paces around the room, rubbing his forehead. “Al loves you like a son. Or a brother.” His smile is rueful as if he regrets letting Al down by taking a step back from running of the organization. “My honest opinion? I think he’ll be pissed at first but get over it-if she really wants to be with you.”
The suggestion that she might not grates but only because I’m not sure myself. Does she want this, or have I just foisted it on her when she was at her weakest? Would she wake up in three weeks or a month and say she’s had enough?
“If you’re not sure yet if this is a real thing, I wouldn’t say anything. Not when things are new and tenuous. You’ll want to present it as a united front, I think. He loves you both, he’s going to want what makes you both happy, and if that’s each other, he might be able to swallow it.”
Some of the tension in my stomach eases hearing Joey share the same views I do on holding off.
“As much as Carmen loves you, I think she’ll fight it. She’s like Sophie’s mom-she doesn’t necessarily want her daughter to make the same choice she did about marrying into la famiglia. I think she wants some nice WASP-y city councilman for Summer, something as far from you and me as it gets.”
I shove my hands in my pockets and try not to scowl. I suppose I knew this obstacle existed, too. In some ways, it’s a harder problem to overcome than Al’s wrath.
Joey shrugs. “So you just persist.”
“Is that how you won over Sophie?”
“Yeah.” He grins. “You gotta fight for the woman you love, even if she isn’t sure.”
I extend my hand, and Joey grasps it, pulling me into a man-hug, thumping my back. “Grazie molte.”
“Yeah, anytime.” He pulls away. “But you know, if you hurt that girl, I’ll kill you, too.”
I smile. “I have no doubt of that. ‘Night, Joey.” Walking to the door, I consider Joey’s advice. Fighting for Summer makes sense in theory, but in reality, she’s fragile right now. I’ve already come on way too strong. If I were a better man, I’d give her a lot more space right now.
But hell. I shove my hands back in my pockets. I’m not a better man, am I?